The Billionaire's Forsaken Wife

Andrew spent the entire evening cleaning the spare bedroom for Rebecca, not returning to their own room until well past midnight.

Sharon was still awake.

The early stages of her pregnancy had been brutal. She hadn’t eaten anything all evening, yet the nausea wouldn’t relent, sending her rushing to the bathroom again and again.

Watching her retch, Andrew’s heart ached. He wrapped his arms around her. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Just a little longer—for me and for the baby.”

But the scent of baby formula, Rebecca’s scent, still clung to him. Sharon’s stomach heaved again, worse than before.

Afterward, lying in bed, her throat burned. “I need some water.”

She’d barely gotten the words out when his phone rang.

“Andrew, the baby won’t settle. I can’t sleep. Can you come help me?”

“Of course. I’ll be right there.”

Hanging up, he glanced back at Sharon. “Try to get some sleep. Rebecca’s baby is only a month old—it’s a fussy stage. I need to go help. I probably won’t be back tonight.”

The door slammed shut with a final *thud*. Sharon licked her parched lips, pushed herself up, and went to the kitchen for water.

It didn’t matter. She was leaving him soon anyway. She wouldn’t rely on him anymore.

As she left her room and passed the spare bedroom, a sliver of light from the doorframe froze her in place.

On the large bed, Rebecca slept on the left side, the baby in the middle, and Andrew on the right.

The baby was asleep. Andrew was leaning in, chatting softly with Rebecca. Their shared laughter, their easy intimacy—they looked like a family.

“Andrew, when are you going to talk to Sharon about the divorce? What if she refuses?”

“She won’t. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll give you and the baby a proper home.”

He kissed her forehead, his voice gentle. “Go to sleep.”

A sharp, stabbing pain pierced Sharon’s chest. She couldn’t even remember the last time Andrew had kissed her like that, the last time he’d soothed her to sleep.

She didn’t sleep a wink. By morning, she was up early, gathering the documents for her immigration appointment.

She was halfway through breakfast when Andrew came downstairs.

“Sharon, after you finish eating, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

She wiped the corner of her mouth. “What is it?”

“Let’s get a divorce.”

Five words. She’d known they were coming, but the speed still caught her off guard.

“Alright.” Her voice was calm as she carried her bowl and chopsticks to the sink. “Draw up the papers. I’ll sign them.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just for show. Once we establish paternity for Rebecca’s baby, we’ll remarry right away. Sharon, I love you. I love our baby, too.”

He came up behind her, his large hands settling on her still-flat stomach. Their child was in there. He would never truly abandon Sharon. He just couldn’t bear to leave Rebecca alone with a child, either.

Sharon nodded. “I understand. You’re worried about her being alone, worried about her child. I get it. It’s fine. Just get the paperwork to me as soon as you can.”

Her tone was flat, her eyes devoid of any ripple of emotion—not even a flicker of sorrow. Her calmness unsettled him.

“Sharon, you know Rebecca and Christopher never officially married. The baby needs a legal guardian; it’s bad for her future. The moment the registration is done, I’ll divorce Rebecca immediately. Please don’t overthink this.”

He kept explaining, unaware that Sharon’s disappointment in him had long since curdled into something cold and final.

She heated a glass of milk for herself and took a small sip. “Yes. I know.”

“You’re so understanding, Sharon.”

He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, then turned and hurried back upstairs.

Rebecca was waiting for him. “Well? Did she agree?”

“She did! She agreed! Rebecca, don’t worry, I’ll give our baby a home very soon.”

They embraced, elated, completely oblivious to Sharon standing at the foot of the stairs, a stack of immigration forms clenched in her hand.

She looked away, turned, and walked out the door.

*Andrew, if this is what you want, so be it.*